Just a cold
by Aqua Mage
Summary: House is sick, but it's just a cold...or is it? Nonship, please review! COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Hey, another new fic. Sorry to have two WIPs at once, but I just felt like it. This is my first House fic, so I may have got the characters completely wrong – let me know! If anyone has any good suggestions for sarcastic comments to deflect the attention away from his illness, please leave them in a review, or IM me. I could do with the help!

Disclaimer: Don't own, so I'd like it if you didn't sue me…and so would you, as I have no money…

Hope you enjoy – I'd like any comments, good or bad…but particularly good!

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"Greg, you look like shit" Dr Gregory House didn't even bother turning towards his friend, just continued his limp towards the elevator, throwing a "And a good morning to you too Wilson" over his shoulder. The oncologist sighed, falling into step beside his friend.

"What are you even doing in work? You look like you're going to collapse any minute!"

"Well, the floor does look a lot more comfortable than my latest hooker…knees like knives…" House stuck out his cane to push the button for the elevator and turned to leer at his friend, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Wilson refused to be put off, however.

"Seriously House – is your leg bothering you?"

"No, that would be you."

House limped into the elevator and stabbed at the 'close doors' button, but Wilson stuck his clipboard in the gap, waiting patiently for the doors to re-open before joining his friend in the otherwise empty elevator. He didn't say anything for a full minute, instead choosing to scrutinise his friend, looking for the signs of increased pain – or a hangover. What he saw surprised him. In addition to the dark shadows under his eyes that he'd noticed when the man entered the lobby, House was deathly pale, save for a crimson blush on his cheeks, and his hands were trembling ever so slightly on his cane, which he was gripping so tightly his knuckles were white. Though he appeared to be staring at the floor numbers flashing on the screen, his eyes had a glazed look to them, and his lips were dry and cracked.

Wilson blinked, surprised. He hadn't known House to be sick in years, apart from his infarction, and he _never_ looked this bad, not even in withdrawal. But there was no doubt that he was sick. What he had thought was increased pain in House's leg combined with a hangover – House's own personal painkiller - seemed instead to be some kind of illness that had come upon his friend over the weekend. The man looked to be running a fever – and a pretty high one at that.

Wilson paused a moment, thinking, then asked to the elevator in general

"What's your temp?".

As expected, House ignored him, continuing to stare at the numbers on the wall. The elevator seemed to be stuck between the fifth and sixth floor at the moment, noted Wilson as he turned to his friend, reaching out to feel his forehead, only for his arm to be caught in a firm grip and placed back to his side, his friend never taking his eyes off the wall. Struggling to release his arm, he sighed, exasperated, "Greg, you're sick, for Christ's sake! I need to see how high your fever is,"

For the first time, House turned to face him, smirking at his friend's expression of irritation at being ignored. "I'm fine _Mother_. Don't you have better things to do, like playing God to little bald kids?" The elevator ground to a halt at his floor, and he jabbed the button for the ground level, stepping out quickly, between the closing doors. This time Wilson wasn't quick enough, and House could hear his irritated sigh as the elevator took him back down to the lobby.

Checking the corridor to make sure that nobody was watching, he slumped against the wall by the elevator doors, massaging the bridge of his nose in an attempt to push away the terrible headache he'd had for the past few days, stubbornly ignoring the fact that his hand was shaking and his throat was killing him from all the coughing he'd been doing that morning. It's just a cold, he told himself. Good reason to get out of clinic duty, but not a reason to spend the day in bed. Besides, he didn't get sick. Hung-over, drugged, yes, but never sick. And anyway, what would his ducklings do without him? Pushing himself away from the cool support of the wall, he strode, or limped, determinedly down the corridor to his office, ready to entertain his ducklings with his wit and sarcasm, and possibly smack someone in the shins with his cane…that would make him feel _much_ better…

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Hope you enjoyed…I'll update when I can, but that may be tomorrow or next year, so don't hold your breath. Reviews may speed me up, so you could try if you like it, but no promises…I am extremely lazy! 


	2. Chapter 2

Okay. This is chapter, two. Hope you all like it – House rules! If anyone has any good suggestions for sarcastic comments to deflect the attention away from his illness, please leave them in a review, or IM me. I could do with the help!

Note I have absolutely NO medical knowledge; everything I mention in this chapter I got from the NHS online service, and I made some leaps of logic. My apologies for any inaccuracies.

Disclaimer: Don't own, so I'd like it if you didn't sue me…and so would you, as I have no money…

Hope you enjoy – I'd like any comments, good or bad…but particularly good!

House sighed heavily as he lowered himself into a chair. He'd only been in work for an hour, and he was already exhausted. He'd limped into the office to be greeted by the news that Cuddy had assigned them a new case. Normally he would have moaned about her lack of respect for his workload, but he just couldn't be bothered today. He'd made do with a mild comment about her sexual desires and a reference to Chase's hair, and had started them on the differential diagnosis.

He was yet again shocked by the kind of cases that the other doctors deemed worthy of his department. It wasn't exactly unusual for a three year old to have a red and puffy eye, even if there _was_ no apparent cause. Nor was it unusual for him to refuse to do anything for hours at a time. If it wasn't for the fact that other people apparently had moral obligations, he'd have thought that Cuddy was purposely making a big deal of an eye infection. Even so, he'd sent his team off to re-do a bunch of basic tests in case the "terrifically talented, fresh out of med-school, Oh dear, the patient appears to be dead" doctors on the first floor had missed something obvious. Like an eye infection.

He refused to even contemplate the possibility that he may have sent his team away partly so that they would have less opportunity to observe him. He wasn't feeling much worse, but he certainly wasn't feeling any better either, and the tickle in his throat that had caused him to cough so much earlier was making a re-appearance. Leaving his cane hooked on the table, he hobbled over to the sink and poured himself a glass of water, sipping it thoughtfully as he contemplated his symptoms. Headache, fever, general aches and pains, or at least more than usual…he doubled over suddenly in a wracking cough, pain shooting through his head and leg at the sharp movements. Oh yes, he thought absently as his body tried to evict his lungs; mustn't forget the cough...

It was nearly five minutes later that the fit started to fade. Gasping for breath, House gulped down the rest of his water, trying to sooth his burning throat. Probably a chest cold, he thought; maybe the flu, or bronchitis…nothing he considered serious. He was sure Wilson would disagree though, as would Cameron, who seemed to have noticed something was wrong with her boss, despite his attempts to hide it. He was pretty sure that Foreman thought he was hung-over, and Chase probably agreed, though he'd never dare to say anything. Wuss.

"That's a nasty cough you've got" House was startled out of his thoughts by Wilson's unruffled tones. He glanced up to find his friend leaning in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, one eyebrow raised. House limped carefully back to the table, leaning back in his seat and propping up his bad leg on the chair opposite. He twirled his cane idly as he replied "must've swallowed wrong. Water can be extremely dangerous when in the wrong hands. Look at 'the evil aqua man'"

He didn't even need to look at Wilson to know that the eyebrow had just climbed to previously unknown heights. Wiping a hand over his face, House fumbled for his pills, dry swallowing two, determinedly not wincing as they pushed past his sore throat. "I'm impressed, by the way. It only took you," he checked his watch "70 minutes to find your way back upstairs. Might be a new record." He tried for an irritating grin, but didn't quite pull it off, his leg, obviously jealous of the attention he was giving the rest of his aching body, choose that moment to remind him of its presence, and his face twisted into a grimace. Wilson opened his mouth to comment, but House was saved by his team hurrying through the door, giving him a fleeting moment of pleasure as Chase veered to avoid Wilson and nearly walked into the wall.

Completely ignoring Wilson, he turned to his team, "Well? Is our 'ickle twooper' actually a case?" As Chase was still recovering from his near miss and Foreman was obviously trying to work out what they'd interrupted, it was Cameron who answered.

"The tests were clear. No infection, no sting, no wound of any kind."

"It's nothing. The only thing wrong with him is the eye and a snotty nose. It'll clear up by itself."

Chase had evidently sufficiently recovered to give his opinion, but Cameron scowled and continued "There's still the periods of unresponsiveness. We don't know what's causing that." Foreman intervened, arguing "He's a stubborn kid. He's just sulking. Didn't you ever ignore everyone when you were a kid?"

"Of course not, Doctor Cameron has been morally perfect from the day she was born, and was always an adorable child. You're all wrong." House jeered from the table.

"I was…what?" Cameron seemed torn between looking indignant and confused. House smirked at her, and continued. "You're wrong. The kid has a headache. Or, to be precise, lots of headaches."

Foreman was shaking his head. "He hasn't complained of pain…" "No. But he _is_ suffering from headaches. Cluster headaches. Extreme and sudden pain on one side of the head, lasts for periods of 1 to 3 hours, sometimes causes one eye to swell up and one nostril to get all icky, occurs in about one in a thousand people, 80 percent of whom are male. Accounts for the eye, the 'snotty nose' and the periods of unresponsiveness. Give the parents some pain killers to give him when it hurts and send him back to nursery." House swallowed painfully; his throat was not enjoying this. Looking up, he saw that his team was still there, staring at him, as was Wilson, much to his annoyance.

"Well? Why are you still here?" He snapped. "Go and tell his parents, he's missing finger-painting."

Cameron got over her shock first. "If it's cluster headaches, why isn't he complaining of pain, or crying? He's only three; he's hardly going to be being macho."

"_I_ was an _extremely_ macho three year old." Shot back House, "but I'm gonna go for door number three today. The kid's autistic. Doesn't show emotion or sensation too well." He ignored Wilson's murmured "sounds like somebody I know", and continued "Might not even recognise the pain, if he's had them all his life. Get the psych ward to diagnose him before he leaves. And clear off." Picking up his cane, he limped into his office, slumping into his chair and picking up his gameboy with an air of studied nonchalance, but desperately hoping to be left alone so that he could let the pain show, even if just for a moment. His leg and head were throbbing in tandem, his throat was on fire, he was about to launch into another coughing fit, and he thought his fever had risen noticeably in the last hour. He couldn't believe it was only lunchtime.

Well! That's it for another chapter – a bit of a filler, but better than nothing, I hope! Thanx to everyone for the reviews, I have been hyper for days. Woop. Seriously, they all made my day; I'm so pleased that people are enjoying this. I'm gonna do individual replies here, but for future chapters, I'll probably IM you, so don't get angry with me.

Okay, so here goes:

MisunderstoodandForlorn : My first reviewer! I hope you still think that House is in character even after this chapter…

KS-fan : Thanx, I agree with you about Wilson – I love the way he is with House! Not too sure what you mean by House/Wilson hurt/comfort – it's not gonna be a ship fic at all, as far as I'm aware, if that's what you mean, but there will be lots of Wilson worrying etc. Hope you like the bit in this chapter, even if it is a bit short…

Dyslexic Crayon : I love your user name! You are absolutely right about the infarction; I've changed it now – how embarrassing. Though I wouldn't' be surprised if House had been in jail, at least fro a night!

gh2005 : Thanx! Hope this is soon enough.

The Swordsman : Good to know. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

phm : I think you write great reviews – at least you write them! And like the whole House in pain stuff isn't unusual at all – see my profile – there's a whole community of character bashers!

AtreidesHeir : Thanx! I've gotta say, that was also my favourite part – it was great fun to write. I've corrected the spelling now, thanx again. Hope I got the American parts in this correct…

Jon'ic Recheio: Cheers!

gypsy-butterfly : Ooooh, I'm blushing! Thanx!

blank : Thanx for the review, even if you're not sure what your pen name is. I also love sick House fics – if you want to read more, check out my C2 and my favourites – there are quite a few out there…

AEW (im too lazy to log in) : Thank you for the advice, I would find that extremely traumatic. Please eat something – but not before you review again, hyper is good!

Rin Innakita: Thanx for the warning, but I'm also reading that excellent fic and intend to take this one in a different direction…

imanaddict : Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Will be more House/Wilson chatting soon…

Dani : I hope this was fast enough – I am very slow by nature, but this is fun!

charmedbabywyatt : Ah, a fellow Charmed fan! Thanx for the review…

n.r.kiecks : Glad you thought so, thanx!

If I forgot anyone, feel free to flame me, I'd deserve it! Hope you enjoyed…I'll update when I can, but that may be tomorrow or next year, so don't hold your breath. Reviews may speed me up, so you could try if you like it, but no promises…I am extremely lazy!


	3. Chapter 3

Hiya! I've finally updated! Sorry, but this chapter is absolute rubbish. The next one will be better. I hope.

Here it is.

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"You know, they're going to realise something's wrong eventually." House sighed; he should have known that Wilson wasn't going to leave. He decided to try the age old method of ignoring him. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the screen. Wilson sat down. The moving screen made House's headache worse within minutes, so he pulled out his yoyo. Wilson waited. House's aching limbs protested after three minutes with the yoyo, so he pulled out a magazine. Wilson leaned back in his chair. The text started moving on the page after about ten minutes, but House kept going with the magazine for another twenty, focusing on a blank spot on the page to minimise his headache. Wilson pulled out a sandwich and began to eat.

House started to feel nauseous, the smell of the food getting to him. He opened his mouth, ready to rant. The ring of a pager split the air. Glancing at the screen, Wilson swore. "I have to go." House smirked. Winning by an opponent's withdrawal was still winning. "My heart aches. I'm not sure I'll survive without you staring at my breasts…oh, wait, that's the new nurse…my mistake…" Wilson scowled. "I'll be back House. Don't think I'll forget that you're sick. If you're still in the hospital when I get back, unless it's as a patient, I'm telling Cuddy." "Oh, don't. You know what she does to me, the minx." House waggled his eyebrows, playfully, but inside he was praying to a God he didn't even believe in that Wilson would leave before he had another coughing fit. He'd been holding it in for half an hour. His prayers were answered as Wilson hurried from the room, throwing a parting comment over his shoulder, "And don't go near the clinic!". House didn't even bother deigning that with a reply, just limping to his feet, shutting the door and closing the blinds. Staggering back to his chair, he closed his eyes against the pounding in his head, swallowed a cough, and sighed. Only five more hours to go.

* * *

"5:03pm – Doctor House signs out". The man behind the desk stared at him, rolling his eyes at the precise timing. To House, it appeared as though he deliberately took his time to find the register, and a working pen, but finally it was done. He was free to go. Limping heavily to the exit, he called back to the man at the desk "You should get those anal sores seen too, you know. They could get nasty." Ah, that felt better.

He had been lucky – Wilson's patient had taken up the man's entire afternoon, so his threat hadn't been carried out, and his ducklings hadn't brought him a new case, so he had been irritant – free for the whole afternoon. Apart from the cough, fever, headache, shakes…but it was just a cold; it'd be gone in a couple of days. Stubbornly ignoring the increased pounding behind his eyes, he painfully lowered himself into his car – he hadn't trusted himself with the bike that morning – damn cold – and fumbled for his keys.

* * *

Half an hour later, House pulled up to his apartment, cursing rush-hour traffic. He dizzily heaved himself out of the car and across the road to his apartment. After a seemingly endless struggle for his keys – his fingers didn't want to co-operate, he was so tired – he stumbled into his haven. Limping into the bathroom, he peered at his face in the mirror. He looked pretty bad, he had to admit. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his face was chalk white, except for the fever blush on his cheeks and forehead. He reached for his bathroom cabinet and swallowed a few Tylenol, before undressing, relieving himself and stumbling to his bed. After a five minute fit of painful, body wracking coughs, he finally felt himself slip into oblivion.

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Phew! Glad that's over! Sorry it was so rubbish – I may go back and edit it at a later date, but probably not, I'm too lazy. Hopefully, though, the next chapter should be up soon, and will be much better! (Not that that would be terribly hard!)

Pleeease review, it makes me VERY happy! Did you know it's possible to dance while on a chair?

Thanx for reading,

Aqua Mage

**Review Replies for chapter 2:**

Ataea: yeah, I liked that bit too. Glad it made someone else laugh, it makes me feel less strange.

KS-fan and Mikhyel: Sick!House does indeed rule. And it is going to get serious, but it may not be for another few chapters, I'm not sure…

The Swordsman: Yay indeed!

AtreidesHeir: Thanx a lot. I hope this chapter isn't too bad…I'd hate to disappoint…

House Calls: Thank you very much! The characterisation was important to me, so thanx for commenting on it. And I love your pen name. Just thought I'd mention that.

AnimeSoul17: Thanx. Glad someone thought that the medical part wasn't too awful! You'll be glad to hear that I have no intention of making this a ship fic, though I will carry on the hints given in the series.

charmed1s-halliwells: Thanx for the review. I too love Charmed, particularly the earlier series…

imanaddict: Doesn't sound crazy at all! There's a whole community out there who also enjoy what is normally termed 'whumping' – characters getting hurt – and then being worried over. Check out my profile.

anitablakevampirehunter: Thank you. As I've said before, characterisation is important to me, so I'm really glad you liked it…

Dani: Really? I'm chuffed!

Batman'sBeauty18: Yeah, I know the autism thing was unrealistic, but it was the best I could come up with…do you have any suggestions for other patients? You seem to know what you're talking about…

JustABeta, Aphrodite Roslin, Rose12345, izzfrogger and Lurkinshdws: Thanx for the kind words. Hope this chapter is okay for you!

If I forgot anyone, please feel free to flame me...I'd deserve it! I'd love some more reviews...


	4. Chapter 4

Hi. Sorry for the long wait. This chappy is pretty short, but it broke my writer's block, so more should be on the way soon….

(Oh, one thing – if anyone here also reads Harry Potter, I'd love any comments on my newest story, "Samuel".)

Slight icky bits…you have been warned…here we go…

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"Why are we doing this?" Chase lounged in the back of the car, yawning. "I mean, so what if he's not in work? Why is that our problem?"

"Because Cuddy threatened to divide his owed clinic hours between the three of us if he's not in to do some this afternoon." Foreman answered, rolling his eyes at Chase's moaning. "And I checked, and he owes 97 hours. You want to do an extra 32 hours in the clinic?"

"And twenty minutes" Cameron murmured.

"What?"

"And twenty minutes. 97 hours divided by three is 32 hours and twenty minutes."

"Riiiiight..." drawled Foreman, as Chase said "but why doesn't Cuddy just ring him? And why do we all have to go drag him into work? It's not gonna take three people…"

Cameron sighed, turning back to face the Australian. "Cuddy did ring him. No answer."

"As for why it's gonna take three of us" Foreman added, changing gears, "it's not, but if you wanna stay in the office with Cuddy in that mood, you're either very dedicated or a fool. And hey, aren't you curious about House's apartment? Think of all the blackmail material we could find…"

Chase grinned. "That's true. Wonder why he's not in, though? Think he's got a hooker round, or something?"

"Nah, he'd ring. I reckon he's so hung-over he can't find the phone. He looked smashed yesterday. Good job Cuddy didn't come up, or she'd have chewed him a-"

"He wasn't hung-over, he was sick. Couldn't you tell?" Cameron interrupted "Wilson thought so too, didn't you see how he was staring at him?"

"Sick? House doesn't get sick!" Chase snorted "I'm with Foreman. He's probably blind drunk, passed out on his couch"

Cameron scowled at him. "You think? Okay, then – left here, Foreman, then second right – I bet you fifty bucks that he's sick."

Following her instructions, Foreman glanced up at her, "I'll take that bet. I'll bet you another fifty that he's hung-over."

"You're on. Chase, you in?"

"Yeah" he replied confidently "House is never sick…"

* * *

Several blocks away, House would have found it difficult to agree with him. His alarm had gone off hours ago, but he had yet to get up. He felt, if possible, even worse than the day before. The headache was now rivalling the pain in his leg during his detox. Unfortunately, the gating mechanism he had applied at that time did not seem to be working. His leg hurt just as much, if not more, than usual, and in fact seemed rather to be enjoying the company. The cough had worsened, and he was experiencing sharp pains in his chest and shortness of breath. He didn't dare take his temperature, as that would undoubtedly confirm his early diagnosis – he was sick.

And, he was forced to admit, if this had started off as a cold, it was certainly not going to continue as one. At first, he had suspected bronchitis, but as his fever had steadily risen, he had been forced to reconsider. Add to that that the pain in his chest was on one side rather than the centre and the general aches and pains permeating his body, he was starting to suspect either a bad chest infection, or pneumonia. As his thoughts processed along this vein, the tickle in his throat returned, and he was again thrust into a fit of painful, body wracking coughs. After five minutes, the coughs started to fade, and he grabbed a handful of tissues from the bedside table, spitting a wad of mucus into them. Critically examining the colour, he silently prided himself on the diagnosis. Pneumonia, then. Wonderful.

Looking at his clock, he realised that he'd better get to work soon, or Cuddy was going to yell at him for missing clinic duty – and it was that time of the month, so she'd yell really loudly. Dreading the thought of the effect of her voice on his headache, he decided that that was something to avoid. And he should probably run some tests and get some antibiotics. Better get going, then. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to think of ways to avoid Wilson and fool his team into thinking he wasn't ill. That train of thought was rudely interrupted by yet another coughing fit though, and he hardly noticed, when it was finally over, that he was drifting…off...to...sleep…

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Well, there you have it, chapter four. Hope you liked it, bit of a filler, I know, but I'd appreciate any comments.

The next chapter will be up soon. Maybe. I hope.

**_Aqua Mage_**

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**Review Responses:**

Rose12345: Thank you sooooo much! I was getting all depressed, thinking the last chapter was rubbish, and your review really cheered me up.

The Swordsman: Thanx. As you can see, the diagnosis so far is pneumonia, but I won't say whether or not House is right…

House Calls: Thanx. The characterisation was important to me, I'm glad you think it's done ok.

kitkat11: I read your story, and it was great – I followed it from about half way through. Hopefully this one will not be too like it though, I don't want to plagiarise! And here you go, another hour or two duly sacrificed! Thanx for the review.

obsessedwithstabler: As you can see, Cameron will be making a House Call – but with the others. This is non-ship, and I think I'd find it hard to write Cameron alone with House in his apartment while keeping to that! Thanx for the review.

MisunderstoodandForlorn: Thanx sooooooo much for the kind words. Hope you like this chapter too.

boredum: Here's the update – thanx for the review.

Izzfrogger: Thank you very much indeedy.

If I forgot anyone, please feel free to flame me...I'd deserve it!


	5. Chapter 5

Well, I've finally updated. Go me.

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"You do it."

"No way, this was your idea. You do it!"

"It was not my idea! Cuddy-"

Alison Cameron sighed as she wondered once again how the men in front of her could possibly have made it through High school, college and seven years of med school with the mentality of three year olds. Then again, some of the supposedly qualified doctors that she had worked with in the past had left her marvelling at the fact that they could manage to actually walk and talk at the same time, so she supposed it could be worse…

Chase and Foreman had been arguing for the past ten minutes over who was going to knock on their bosses' door. Or at least that was how it had started. She suspected that they may have forgotten by now what they were supposed to be arguing over. Sighing loudly, she pushed between them and rapped smartly on the door, effectively cutting of the men in mid flow, pretending not to notice the silent high five behind her back.

They waited in silence for a few minutes, before Chase ventured "maybe he's left for work…"

"I doubt it. Cuddy would have rung. I suppose he could be asleep." Cameron sounded a little uncertain.

"At ten thirty in the morning?"

"Well, he is sick…"

Foreman snorted. "He's probably passed out on his couch, completely smashed."

Before Cameron could retort, Chase jumped in. "Well, whatever, he's not answering the door, so I guess we should get back and let Cuddy know."

The other two looked at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding?" Foreman questioned. "If we go back and tell Cuddy that we haven't got House because he didn't answer his front door, we'll be on clinic duty for the rest of the year! We'll just open the door for him…" He started rummaging in his pockets, "I know I've got a paper clip somewhere…"

Cameron smirked at him. "Or we could just use the key that Wilson gave me before we left."

Foreman glared while Chase chuckled.

---------------

"Well, he's not passed out on the couch" Chase whispered as they gazed around the room taking in all of the things that House surrounded himself with in his private space. Without talking, they split up to search the surrounding rooms for the occupant of the apartment.

It only took a minute before Chase hissed "Guys! He's in here". After taking in the scene before him for a minute, Foreman reached into his pocket, removing his wallet. "What are you doing?" Cameron stared at him.

"I owe you a hundred bucks. He is definitely sick." He handed her the notes, then followed Chase, who had already moved to the side of House's bed and was checking his vitals.

"He's non-responsive. Pulse is racing, and he has a fever. Did anyone bring…thanks" He took the strip thermometer from Cameron and made to lay it across House's head, when his wrist was gripped in a surprisingly firm hold, and a rasping voice said "Is this your latest fetish? Thermometer strips? Hate to tell you, but that could prove awkward for ya, being a doctor and all…"

---------------

"House! I…I didn't realise you were awake!" Chase dropped House's wrist as if it had scolded him, scrambling back to join Forman and Cameron at the end of the bed.

"No shit, Sherlock." Bleary blue eyes took in the three doctors in front of him, and he struggled to sit up, arms visibly trembling as he hoisted himself into a more upright position. Fumbling with the cap on his vicodin, he croaked "Cuddy's sent the cavalry, I see. Either that or I had an extremely interesting time last night…" Ignoring the splutters coming from the end of the bed, he gulped down two pills with a glass of water from his bedside table. "Well, why are you still here? Go away; I need to shower…unless you wanted to keep me company?" The end of his sentence went unheard as he dissolved into another fit of painful, hacking coughs. It was getting increasingly had to breath during these fits, he observed idly, as he gasped for air. He was vaguely aware of the rooms other occupants hurrying around; he felt hands on his chest, throat, pushing him forwards, holding him steady, but he concentrated on trying to draw enough breath to stay conscious.

As the fit started to end, he felt the cool plastic of the thermometer on his forehead, but he batted it weakly aside. He heard an exasperated sigh from his side, and something was muttered that questioned his parentage and the laws of anatomy, before a glass of water was pushed against his lips and Cameron's voice said calmly "House, you have a fever. We need to know how high. Just leave the thermometer ralone." Then to one side "Foreman, have you called that ambulance yet?"

"My battery's dead" was the reply, as he tapped his phone in exasperation. "I'll use the house phone" He started to walk into the lounge, but House's raspy voice stopped him.

"No Ambulance. I'm fine."

"House, you have a fever of 103. You are not-"

"I'm FINE" Stubbornly, House pulled himself out of bed, reaching for his cane, and standing so quickly that they didn't have time to stop him. They got there in time to catch him as his legs collapsed beneath him, though. Gripping him firmly under the arms, Chase shook his head. "Yeah, I'll believe that. Perfectly fine people collapse all the time."

Wrenching himself free from the younger man's grasp, House took an unsteady step towards the bathroom. "It's just a cold. I'm fine. I'm gonna take a shower, and then we can go see what delightful outfit – or lack of – that Cuddy has graced us with today." The door closed behind him. His team glanced at each other, uncertainly, and then, as a whole, moved towards the phone. They hadn't gone more than two steps, however, when the door opened again and House's head popped out, glaring at them. "And if anyone so much as THINKS the word ambulance, remember the joys of reassignment to the bedpan department." With that the door slammed shut once more. Resigned, they wandered into the lounge and sat down, trying vainly to ignore the muffled coughs coming from the bathroom.

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Hope you enjoyed – reviews make me do amusing things (amusing for anyone watching).

**Review Replies**

I've had a comment that the individual answering of all reviews is annoying, but I've also had a congrats for the same thing. So, here's what I'm gonna do. Any specific questions, I'll answer, but other than that, I'll thank everyone at once. Next time, I'll try and do personal replies, but if I do that now, I know half of you will have no idea what I'm talking about, as it's been so long since my last update.

Anyway, that's what's happening. Enjoy. Or not. Whatever you want. But please review anyway!

obsessedwithstabler, AtreidesHeir, ezraschild, meeee, IceStar4621, izzfrogger, aislinn, Rose12345, 93pinky93, Krows Scared, House Calls, Gaze, BabiGirlBri16, Freakshow.

Special thanks to izzfrogger and House Calls, for such lovely praise! I really hope this chapter doesn't change your minds…

Oh, and loads of people have commented on chapter length and updating speed. Sorry about that, I'm just lazy. And I have been away. A bit. Anyway, I hope it's bearable despite that…

Thanx again for all your LOVELY reviews…

Aqua Mage


	6. Chapter 6

Hiya, people, I'm not dead. Though this chapter would probably be better written if I was. I haven't read it through at all, so there are probably loads of stupid mistakes. Oh well. Read on…

* * *

"Hey, check this out, House has a photo album! I didn't think he had enough friends to fill a whole album…" Chase eagerly opened the book marked 'photos', flicking through to the first picture and instantly blushing to the roots of his hair. "Oh. That's not a photo album…God, I didn't think that was anatomically possible…"

"I'm doing a study on the female anatomy," a hoarse voice rasped from the doorway. "Endlessly fascinating subject…and you meet such interesting people…" Grinning at the spluttering Australian, he limped over to his kitchen and filled a glass with water, draining it in one gulp before coughing harshly into his fist. "So, are we all ready to go see the wicked witch of the clinic duty?" Turning, he found them all staring at him. "What? Is there something wrong with my hair?"

Finding his voice, Foreman put forward what they were all thinking. "You're not seriously going in to work? You're obviously sick…"

"Hey, just because you don't have a hobby." House gestured to the book still in Chase's hands and leered. "C'mon, I have people to annoy, patients to avoid, hospital chiefs to irritate…I haven't got all day." So saying he limped out of the door, leaving three gob smacked doctors in his wake.

"He avoids work all year, and then the one day he actually has a legitimate excuse, we can't keep him away? God, only House…" Foreman rolled his eyes and sighed. Finally looking up from House's album, Chase stared at him. "Hey, he's actually going to the hospital voluntarily, I'm not complaining. I mean, c'mon, Cuddy'll take one look at him and he'll be in tied to a hospital be complete with IV and heart monitor before you can blink." Glancing down at the abandoned album, Cameron murmured "Heck, he'd probably enjoy that…" before following the others out of the room.

* * *

"House! Where the HELL have you been? It's HALF PAST ELEVEN!!!!! You were supposed to be in the clinic THREE HOURS AGO!!!!!" There was no doubt in the minds of the occupants of Princeton Plainsboro reception area that Dr Lisa Cuddy was seriously pissed. Several nurses who had been approaching her with files discreetly about turned and slunk out of the room, followed by a fair number of the receptionists. Cuddy was oblivious to all this, though, as she shoved a file into House's chest. "You have a case. I expect to see the patient sitting up and smiling by lunchtime." Punctuating her words with a finger in his chest, she glared at him. "GET GOING!" Spinning around, she stormed out of the room, the flock of nurses discreetly rejoining her at the door.

Pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to remove the little men currently completing construction work in his head, House sighed. "Good God, is it that time of the month again already?"

* * *

An hour later, House sat with his head buried in his arms, safely locked in his darkened office. After what seemed like days of arguing with his team over why he did NOT need to be in bed, and they did NOT need to run tests on him, nor stick him with needles, he'd finally gotten rid of them to check and run tests on the patient.

Talking about tests though, he supposed that he really ought to find out the particular strain of pneumonia he'd managed to contract, and work out a way to get antibiotics without having to get somebody else to write the prescription for him. Also, it was about time for lunch, and no doubt Wilson would be making an appearance to nag him about his health at any minute now. Yippee. Groaning, House heaved himself up out of his chair, gasping for breath as yet another coughing fit took hold of him. Reminding himself for the seventeenth time that morning that he just had a slight cold/pneumonia, he took as deep a breath as he could manage and set off to the labs.

* * *

Okay, now I am aware that this is horribly long winded and badly written, with House very out of character, and Cameron practically non-existent, but I honestly couldn't write anything else. This is my way of getting rid of the writer's block that seems to have struck since I started the new term. Sorry.

Reviews are very welcome, I will do a happy dance for each one I get ( unless I'm in lessons, that would be a bit of a give away that I'm doing the wrong thing – nobody in their right minds would laugh at the different levels of business management in a company…so I will do _mental_ happy dances instead.)

**Review replies**

Thanx a lot to :

Wolfsong98, 93pinky93, Rose12345, Batman'sBeauty18, CatGirl04, mikesh, obsessedwithstabler, IceStar4621, House Calls, aislinn, wynii, izzfrogger, SmeagulTheWeasul, DrifterSkip, mcoiex, KrisAnya, Krows Scared, Erin Giles, Gaze, Firniswin, Radon65, Hatori Soma.

Dyslexic Crayon: Yea, I did mean 'scalded' thanks…I need a spellchecker that checks for what I meant to say, not what I've actually said…

Dr. Fantabulous: Yeah, I thought the temp. might be a bit too low, but they mainly wanted him to go to hospital because he was unresponsive for over a minute and was having trouble breathing. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.


	7. Chapter 7

Hi. Sorry for the long wait, and even more sorry for the fact that this is so short. And pretty crappy, actually. Hope you enjoy it anyway, and the next one will hopefully be longer, and up faster.

* * *

Wiping the sweat off his forehead, House peered tiredly at the sheet of numbers in his hand, wishing they'd stop dancing around the page and let him read them. Still warm from printing, the paper trembled as his hand shook. Sighing, he allowed himself a brief moment of weakness, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders slump, before resolutely straightening and once more examining the results in front of him. Eyes widening, he quickly scanned them again. Well, that sucked. It looked like he had some phone calls to make.

* * *

Wilson was worried. He hadn't talked to House since the previous day when he'd threatened him with Cuddy, but he'd bumped into Chase on his way back from a consult with a patient, and had been informed of House's somewhat dramatic arrival to work in great detail. Chase had obviously been bored. Wilson would have been concerned had House come into work in the same state as he'd been yesterday, but, if Chase's accounts were to be believed, today he was considerably worse. Sighing, Wilson made his way to the labs. If House was sick, that was where he'd be, the diagnostician in him refusing to rest. It seemed his friend required a thorough kicking - after he'd strapped him to a bed and drugged him up to his eyeballs, of course.

* * *

Lisa Cuddy prided herself on her management abilities. She was not an arrogant woman, but she had worked hard to get where she was and was rightfully proud. She was always polite and fair to her staff and patients, and she was no slacker when it came to the more business like aspects of her job, either. By far the most difficult thing she had to deal with, though, was one Doctor Gregory House. Take this morning, for instance. Monday's were always the clinics busiest day, as everyone decided that the mild cold they'd happily dealt with over the weekend was bad enough to warrant a day off work. House, as usual, had had to be tracked down and threatened to accept the clinic duty at all, and even then she'd know that there was a chance that he would show up late, or ring in complaining that his leg was hurting too much to work, just to piss her off. What she hadn't expected, however, was for him to just not turn up. After over an hour of waiting, and fifteen angry messages left on his answer phone and cell, she'd stormed up to his office and told his staff in no uncertain terms that House's clinic duty WOULD be done, and that they'd better get his ass in here if they didn't want to do it themselves. ALL of it. The last she'd seen of them, they were hurrying towards the car park, in various stages of annoyance, or, in Cameron's case, worry.

And then, just half an hour ago, just as she was about to fire the lot of them, they all wandered in through the front door! She'd taken just enough time to take in the fact that House was there, and not looking repentant, before she'd ripped into him at the top of her voice, shoving a file into his hands and stalking off. She couldn't believe the cheek of him - turning up three hours late without so much as a phone call! It had taken her the whole of the last half hour to calm down, but, now she was thinking more clearly, something was definitely wrong about the whole situation. She'd been too annoyed to even think about it earlier, but now she'd blown off some steam, she was able to look at it more objectively. House, slacker that he could be, had never been this late without at least a phone call before. Granted, he nearly always had a crappy excuse, but at least he had one. And she'd NEVER had to send someone to fetch him before. Thinking back to their brief encounter earlier, she frowned as she remembered the strangely hunched position he'd had over his cane, as if was literally the only thing holding him up. His face had been pale, she remembered, much more so than usual, and…had he been breathing oddly? He hadn't seemed to focus on her, either, but she'd though that he was just trying to irritate her further.

Now, she almost slapped herself in frustration. Of course, he was sick! She felt the familiar feeling of guilt wash through her. It was so obvious, now she thought of it. She should have noticed. Granted, she'd had several extremely important problems to deal with this morning, but still…she sighed. The stubborn jerk! Why didn't he just call in sick, like everyone else! Even as she thought it, though, she knew he'd never do that. He hadn't taken a voluntary sick day in all the time she'd employed him. She'd sent him home a few times, when he looked particularly bad, but he never complained. For somebody who moaned so much over a simple paper cut, he was surprisingly stoic when it came to anything serious. Damn him. She remembered the time, a few years ago, when he'd come into work so sick he collapsed in the foyer. She'd yelled at him then, still tight with worry, when he came around, for even _thinking_ to come into work with what was obviously one of the worse cases of the flu she'd ever seen. He'd been off work for two weeks that time, and had been weak for another two, worrying Wilson and herself greatly. Well, she'd make sure that didn't happen again, she decided, putting down her pen and getting up. If he was sick, she'd send him home, or admit him. Hopefully before he fainted, this time.

* * *

Well, that was it. Hope it was okay. The confrontation between House and the others will hopefully be in the next chapter.

Thanks sooo much to all my fabulous reviewers: Mikesh, DrifterSkip, HouseAddict16, thevigilante15, IceStar4621, Radon65, mari12345, Ataea, writerbitch92, Izzfrogger, obsessedwithstabler, Batman'sBeauty18, Emerald124, KylaRyan, Knightgirl4Jack, wynii, She-Elf4, Dani, KrisAnya, Hatori Soma, thyla, restless-soul, Made-my-day.

If I missed anybody, fell free to flame me, I'd soooooo deserve it! Hopefully, I'll do personal replies for the next chapter...

For all those who asked about Cuddy being so angry and not noticing, she's just having a bad day. She feels guilty about it now, though, as you can see! Plus, I just though it'd be more fun if House knows for sure what's wrong with him before he's confronted…

Anyway, I'd love to know what you think. Are there any requests for the confrontation?

Aqua Mage


	8. Chapter 8

Okay, so I've actually had this typed up for a while. I didn't want to post it, as I'm really not happy with it, but I thought that, in the end, you might prefer a crappy chapter than none at all, as I wasn't getting anywhere with the improvements. I'd appreciate any suggestions…

Just so you know, I'm no Doctor. I don't even take biology. Everything here is taken from the NHS website, and then mangled to fit my own nefarious purposes. Sorry.

Anyway, don't own it, don't sue, etc.

Hope you enjoy. Sorry it took so long. This chapter is dedicated to KylaRyan, who PM'd me to praise the fic (Yay!) and to ask for an update, and who also suggested the chapter ending. Also thanx to Radon5, who suggested some of the stuff with Cuddy.

* * *

James Wilson did not make a habit of eavesdropping. Unlike his sarcastic friend, he tried to hold true to the belief that if he needed to know something, he would be told. Of course, even the strongest morals do not always hold in the face of temptation, and so when Wilson arrive at the door to the labs where he hoped to find his ailing best friend, his ears fairly waggled. House was inside, just as he had expected, but he was not alone. Wilson could hear him talking, and winced at the painful rasp in his voice.

"You're sure?" A pause, and then a snapped out "stop babbling, you imbecile, I'm not going to sue you! How long will it take to be sorted?" Edging closer, Wilson peered in through the window. House was alone, after all, but talking on the phone to someone. Wilson felt sorry for whoever was on the other end. House was caustic enough when he was well, but sick and in pain? The poor guy was going to get his innards handed to him on a platter. He appeared to be aware of this, as House sighed and rasped out. "Shut up. Ring me when it's done. I'll send you the bill for the hotel room", and slammed the phone down so hard the cradle skidded across the table. Wilson took this as his cue to enter.

Without looking up, House muttered "Isn't spying a sin?". Stopping in front of the older man, Wilson replied without hesitation, "Only on a Friday. And Bank Holidays, of course." He was rewarded with a smirk, as House shifted his cane in preparation for standing. "Of course. My mistake." Gathering up several printouts, he limped heavily towards the door, calling out over his shoulder "You're still going to hell, though." Rolling his eyes, Wilson followed.

* * *

"So, who are you going to sue?" Wilson asked as they walked though the corridors. House sighed in mock exasperation. "Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, weren't you listening? I said I'm _not_ going to sue him."

"You also said that you'd tell me when you were sick. Everybody lies, remember".

"Touché"

"So what is it? Pneumonia? Definitely got a chest infection, with that cough."

"Just a cold. Boring. The patient, though has Hydrocephalus, which is much more interesting."

"Good. If you've solved it, I think it's time for you to become the patient. Let me see your test results."

"What test results?" Reaching the lift, House stabbed the button viciously with his cane. Wilson ignored this.

"The ones I know you've spent the last half hour doing. It's not just a cold. You need to be admitted, and you know it.." Stepping into the elevator, House pushed the button for their floor, and then turned to gaze at the floor numbers. Wilson took the opportunity to study his friend in more detail.

House looked awful. He was so pale he made Wilson's lab coat look yellow, apart from his forehead and cheeks, which were flushed scarlet with what was obviously a high fever. His breathing rattled in his chest, and his hands, clenched in a death grip on the handle of his cane, were trembling. There were dark rings under his eyes, and he obviously had a killer headache. All things considered, Wilson was surprised that the other man was still conscious, let alone upright and coherent. Re-directing his gaze towards the elevator doors, and being sure to keep his voice steady and casual, Wilson said "You know, Cuddy isn't blind. She may be pissed at you, but it won't take her long to calm down enough to notice that you're too sick to even be out of bed, let alone in work."

House gave a low, raspy chuckle. "what's she gonna do, fire me?" Still carefully addressing the door, Wilson shrugged, "She could. You know you're not supposed to come in sick - there are too many people here who can't afford to be exposed to new viruses…you could kill someone…" He knew that trying to guilt trip House was a long shot at best, but felt that it was worth a try.

There was short pause, the elevator filled only with the painful sounds of House's obviously constricted breathing, before he spoke. "Not contagious." It was short, but clear. Forgetting his no eye contact approach, Wilson whipped round to face the older man.

"Ha! I KNEW it wasn't 'just a cold'." Taking in his friends pain-filled hunch over his cane, though, his triumph faded. "Greg? Come on, talk to me. I know you know what's wrong. Let me help. Please."

House scowled at him, straightening with a barely hidden wince. "I told you, I don't need any help, I'm FINE. Do I need to spell it out for you?" It was Wilson's turn to snort in amusement. "If you're fine, then I'm the Queen of Sheba!" Without missing a beat, House stuck out a hand. "Gregory House, pleased to meet you." Wilson groaned, rolling his eyes. The elevator stopped and House limped out. Following him, Wilson sighed. It looked like it was going be the 'bug-him-till-he-tells-you-what's-wrong-or-passes-out' approach, then.

* * *

"We should tell Cuddy that he's sick" Cameron burst out, suddenly. Chase and Foreman looked up from their patient's test results, staring at her incredulously.

"Are you kidding?" Chase laughed. "He'd kill us!"

Cameron scowled. "But we can't just let him go on working. He could be really ill! You saw how out of it he was earlier."

"Well, you tell her then. I, for one, value my life, not to mention my career." Chase went back to the test results. Foreman chose that moment to voice his own opinion. "It's all academic anyway. It's pretty obvious that he's gonna pass out soon, and then Wilson will probably chain him to a bed or something…"

"Don't tempt me." Wilson muttered as he entered the office behind House. The ducklings whirled round, looking guilty, only for Cameron to gasp at how ill House looked. He'd certainly got worse in the hour since she'd seen him last. "Doctor House, you really should be-"

"Hydrocephalus." House raspingly interrupted what sounded suspiciously like yet another lecture about his health.

"What?" Foreman asked for them all.

"Hydrocephalus. Headache, vomiting, unusual behaviour such as hyperactivity, you know, all those symptoms that our _patient _has." House rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"But Hydrocephalus would mean that there's too much cerebrospinal fluid in the ventricles-"

"Wow, anyone would think you were a Doctor"

"-and we did a CT scan. No enlargement." Chase continued, unfazed.

"Yadda yadda yadda. CT doesn't give a definitive answer. He's a kid, the brain's changing all the time. Do an MRI. Then get him a shunt set up." Speaking was becoming increasingly painful. He scowled at his stationary staff. "Well, what are you waiting for? Christmas?" He paused as he noticed that their gazes were now focused behind him, then turned as fast as he could without collapsing, coming face to face with his boss, who was standing in the doorway, eyebrow raised.

* * *

Cuddy couldn't help wincing slightly when House turned to face her. If she thought he'd looked bad earlier, he looked terrible now. The rant she'd been rehearsing on her way up died in her throat, and instead, she took a brisk step forward and pressed her hand firmly against his forehead, her other hand clasping the back of his head to stop him pulling away, ignoring his rasping protests. Feeling the unnatural heat of a painfully high temperature, she stepped back, exchanging worried and resigned glances with Wilson.

"You know, most people with a fever of over 104 would admit defeat and take a sick day." She kept her voice light, but she knew that he'd be able to hear her concern.

He glared at her, leaning ever more heavily on his cane. She was pretty sure that it was now the only thing holding him up, and even then it looked like it wouldn't be doing so much longer.

"It is NOT over 104"

"It is WELL over 104, House, and you know it. Come on. I'm admitting you. Can you walk?"

House smirked. "Ever since I was a baby. And I'm fine. It's just a cold" His argument lost a lot of weight as the sentence degenerated into a agonising fit of coughs, bending him almost completely in two. He held up the hand holding his papers to show that he wasn't finished, only to have them snatched out of his hand by Wilson, who hastily flicked through them, batting away House's feeble attempts to regain possession.

"House, you can barely breathe, let alone fight me. Give it up. And…Aha!"

Finding several pages of test results, he skimmed them briefly. They didn't tell him much more than he already knew - House was nearing being dangerously ill with some sort of chest infection. What told him the most, though, were his friends shakily scrawled notes in the margins. Symptoms were listed, making him raise an eyebrow at just how much his friend had been hiding, followed by a list of conditions that fitted. Numerous possibilities had been crossed out, while others were marked with a question mark. Finally, at the bottom of the page, he found what he was looking for - a word written in capitals, violently circled.

Looking up, he raised an eyebrow at his friend, who, finally having managed to stop coughing, was now leaning shakily against his desk.

"Legionnaires, House? Where on Earth did you get that?"

As one, every occupant in the room turned to gaze at House. He scowled.

"Don't you have a _patient_ to be torturing? Wouldn't want the kid's head to explode now, would you? Look terrible on the yearly report…"

"His head's not gonna explode from Hydroceph-" Chase started, but was immediately interrupted.

"And what if I'm wrong?" he lowered his voice to a rasping whisper. "Seriously, Cuddy will be soooooo mad if his head blows up…." he trailed off as Cuddy cleared her throat loudly.

"Nice try, House, but now you're definitely being admitted. Wilson, get him settled, I need to ring the CDC, if there's an outbreak of legionnaires, they'll need to-" she was cut off by a resigned sigh from House.

"No need." He rasped, idly noticing that his voice was close to giving up altogether. "My Landlord already called them last week. Turns out the water supply for the apartments in my block was contaminated. Idiot was trying to save his skin by not telling the tenants - had to pretty much drag it out of him…"

"THAT'S who you were talking to on the phone!" Wilson exclaimed. "The guy who thought you were going to sue him…"

"Well done, Sherlock." House's comment lacked his usual biting tone. He just sounded exhausted. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself away from the desk, hobbling forward a few steps. "I'm going home. I feel like crap." Cuddy stepped forward, gripping his arms gently to stop him from moving. "Not a chance. I'm admitting you. No more arguments" She held up a hand as he opened his mouth to speak. "Ah ah ah! Shut up." Turning to the ducklings, whose faces were showing varying degrees of concern, she snapped out, "One of you get a wheelchair." Turning back to House, she again raised a hand to stop his protests. "Don't you dare say you can walk.". Raising a hand to his head, he muttered "I wasn't going to. Just thought you should know that…actually…you might need a gurney".

"Wha-"

She didn't have time to finish the sentence as his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed, bonelessly, into her arms.

* * *

Okay, so we finally know what's wrong with him! Just to confirm, I am aware (thanks to Euphoria Part 1) that legionnaires takes a lot longer than half an hour to test for. House hasn't actually got test results confirming his diagnosis. He made some of his usual educated guesses, and then rang and harassed his landlord into admitting the source of the contagion.

Just in case anyone was wondering.

Also, thank you very much to DrifterSkip, KylaRyan, KrisAnya, IceStar4621, Knightgirl4Jack, Radon65, mikesh, BlkDiamond, 1985laurie, restless-soul, Hatori Soma, wynii, kitkat11, potter kitty, band122005, Rosenkruez, DanI, lifeisgreen and silver angel for the reviews. Hope you enjoyed this update.

Thanx for reading and please review, it makes me happy,

Aqua Mage


	9. Chapter 9

Okay, so, this is it. The final chapter. Sorry it's a bit pathetic. Endings are definitely not my strong point. Also, I know it seems to be cut off rather abruptly. There will be a sequel (probably!), but not for a few months, I should think, as I have exams (Don't we all!).

I'd also like to apologise in advance for any brit-speak in this chapter (and in retrospect, for the others!). I really don't notice the differences. Sorry, I know how annoying it can be.

Also (last also, I promise!), to sort out some confusion expressed by a few reviewers; the patients House is treating in this fic are all different. The boy with cluster headaches and the boy with hydrocephalus are different people and not important.

Anyhoo, on with the story. Thanks for all the reviews so far, you all make my day!

* * *

There was darkness. Heat, pain, confusion. A thick fog blocked his mind. Demons crawled over his body, whispering into his ear, calling his name. Then he couldn't remember his name any more, and there was only darkness, and pain.

He woke to the sound of the heart monitor. He lay there for several minutes, just listening, waiting for the rest of his body to realise that he was awake, and his mind to catch up and fill in the blanks in his memory. He was interrupted in this pursuit, however, by a familiar voice at his side.

"Come on House, open your eyes. I know you're awake."

He pondered this for a moment, then obeyed, slowly blinking Wilson into focus. Swallowing painfully and pushing aside the oxygen mask covering the lower half of his face, he managed to croak out "How long?".

Wilson frowned at him, but didn't move to replace the mask, instead reaching out and raising the head of the bed. "Since you collapsed? Four days. You're an idiot. You should have been admitted well before that. Your temperature on admittance was 104.7 degrees, and you stopped breathing twice. We had to intubate the second time. It only came out yesterday." He stepped back, running a hand tiredly through his hair. "You've been in and out of consciousness. Mostly delirious, though, when you were awake. I don't suppose you remember." Without waiting for a reply, he continued, voice rising in volume. "You went into arrest once, but we got you back on the first try. You were lucky."

He paused. "For Christ's sake, Greg, what the hell were you thinking? You nearly died!" Wilson was almost shouting now, and House winced as the raised volume sent spikes of pain through his already aching head. Seeing this, Wilson stopped, sighing. "How are you feeling? And if you even think of saying 'fine', then you'd better re-think any plans you had for reproduction."

House raised an eyebrow. "Hey, I'm a sick man here." Studying Wilson carefully, he became serious once more. "I didn't die, you know. I'm okay. Or", he amended, as a sharp bolt of pain shot through his chest, making him gasp softly, "I will be".

Rolling his eyes, Wilson flopped into a chair by the bed, expelling his breath with a snort. "Yeah, I know. I was just - worried, you know? Everyone was. This isn't the first time."

House sighed too. "Yeah", he allowed, wincing as he swallowed carefully. "Now get me a drink before I hack up what's left of my lungs." Wilson complied, then re-took his seat, watching as House carefully sipped the water, holding the cup with trembling hands. After a few minutes, he started to chuckle.

"What?" House snarked. "Did you sit on that vibrating chair again? Do the two of you need a room?" Grinning, Wilson leaned back in his chair. "I can't believe you _fainted _in Cuddy's arms!" Minutes later, a loud splash and a strangled curse could be heard echoing down the corridor.

Cuddy, predictably, was next. Wilson had barely left to change his pants when she appeared at the end of his bed, arms crossed over her chest, eyebrow raised. House followed suit, smirking, and waited. Sure enough, after a few minutes, exasperation won, and she opened her mouth to speak. He cut in gleefully, voice still rasping painfully. " So, was I right?". She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, well done", sarcastic, dry, "Legionnaires it is".

It was House's turn to roll his eyes. "Not me. What do you think I am, self-obsessed or something? Was I right about the kid?" She gave him an odd look, a mixture between admiration and exasperation, then shook her head. Resignedly, she flopped into Wilson's vacant chair.

"Tests were inconclusive-"

"They're always inconclusive" He interrupted her with a wince. She glared at him pointedly, and continued as if there had been no interruption, "-but it's looking likely. It's definitely our best explanation for all the symptoms." She paused, and he could tell that she was debating her next words. "Pleasant though it is to discover that you _**are**_ capable of making a correct diagnosis without causing a malpractice suite, even while not at your best…" she trailed off, sighing. "I won't hold it against you if you tell me next time you're sick, just for a change." She smiled wryly. "It's getting a little ridiculous. The nurses are placing bets over where you'll collapse next."

House feigned an indignant frown. "It's only happened twice. Well, three times . Four if you count that time when-" suddenly he was coughing; hard, painful coughs, which were giving no sign of stopping. Clutching at his chest, which felt like it was being torn apart, he gasped for breath, black spots clouding his vision. Absently, he registered hands on his back, his chest, propping him up, but he was concentrating too hard on staying conscious to make any of the numerous inappropriate comments that instantly sprung to mind; which, on reflection, was probably a good thing. Pissing off the person controlling your oxygen flow was perhaps not the best idea.

It was nearly ten minutes later that the coughs started to trail off, and he flopped back onto his pillows exhausted. Eyes closed, he managed to rasp out, "Well, that was fun". Raising a hand, he weakly batted at the oxygen mask being pressed to his face, only to have his trembling fingers slapped away by an exasperated Cuddy. "Leave it on, House".

Glaring at her, he nonetheless obeyed, reluctantly recognising the need for the extra air, at least for a while. Rolling his eyes, he lowered his hand, using it instead to gesture at the foot of his bed, and his chart, raising an eyebrow as Cuddy started shaking her head. Keeping eye contact, he again reached towards the mask, daring her, and she sighed, resignedly passing him the desired chart. Grinning smugly, he absorbed himself in it, and, after a moment, she busied herself checking the monitors surrounding his bed.

After a few minutes, he laid down the papers and removed the mask, setting it aside. Cuddy rolled her eyes resignedly, but didn't say anything, evidently deciding that he had had enough oxygen. Or possibly realising the difficulties in speaking that could be caused by lack of air.

"You're going to get fits like that for a while. Weeks at least. Probably months. Your stubborn 'just a cold' stance really did a number on your lungs."

House shook his head dismissively, determinedly repressing a wince as he did so. "Legionnaires would have done that anyway, whenever I got treatment." He ignored her exasperated sigh as he gradually became aware of how much his body hurt. Whatever painkiller they'd given him must have been wearing off. His head and leg throbbed relentlessly, his throat felt like someone had sandpapered it, and his chest sent sharp pains ripping through his body every time he drew a breath. He could feel the congestion still in his lungs, rattling and crackling, making him feel a constant need to cough. Even after only having been awake for half an hour, the exhaustion seeping into his limbs was hard to ignore. Cuddy obviously saw this, as other than the sigh, she didn't try to argue with his statement, merely shaking her head as she prepared an injection for his IV.

Noticing her movements, he glared at her. "Now now, you wouldn't want me to become dependant on drugs, would you? Think how bad it would look to all the- hey!" The needle flashed into his line and he felt the drug flood into him.

As his eyes drooped closed, and he felt the oxygen mask replaced over his mouth, he frowned, squinting up at his boss. "That's … not … fair …" The last thing he saw was Cuddy's triumphant smirk as he slipped into sleep.

Smoothing his blankets absent mindedly, the hospital boss glanced around the room at the numerous monitors keeping track of the sleeping man's elevated heart rate and temperature, his oxygen flows and his pain medication, along with several other pieces of information. Rolling her eyes at the startlingly fragile form of the stubborn man in the bed, she left him to his rest, dimming the lights as she went.

Just a cold, indeed.

* * *

So, there it is. Or was, I suppose. Hope you enjoyed. Please review just one last time? Let me know what you thought, and any requests for the sequel.

Thanks so much for reading.

Aqua Mage

Reviews:

Thanx so much to all who reviewed, obsessedwithstabler, BlkDiamond, izzfrogger, KylaRyan, med-anomaly, kaydee, 1985laurie, Boys Don't Cry, Batman'sBeauty18, Neela149, Sparky the Wonder Weasel, band122005, Hatori Soma, DrifterSkip, Rosenkruez, restlesssoul, Krows Scared, RedClarinet5, Radon65, taifanficfan, kyu, IceStar4621, Miss Howlett, megatokyolover, callietitan.

Hope I didn't forget anyone - let me know if I did!

Also, for those who don't know what legionnaires is but want to, below is the link where I got most of my information (remove the spaces, and replace the word (dot) with the actual thing!):

www (dot) nhsdirect (dot) nhs (dot) uk/articles/article (dot) aspx? articleId 229


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